Hermits Rock

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When I was a boy growing up in rural Arkansas, there were only two lessons dogs needed to learn.

Industrial Abode

A Dog’s Life

I know what it is like to know shame and regret for the fact a dog once gave me more love than I deserved.


Fast-Forward for Titties

When I became aware of sex, well before I learned how to masturbate, my first access to naked women was the Penthouse magazines that mom’s boyfriend’s teenage son kept on his nightstand. Soon enough, however, I discovered that the boyfriend had HBO and that movies with breasts would come on late Friday night while they were out clubbing in Little Rock.

It explains a lot

I had forgotten about it, but, according to a plaque I received at the time, I apparenty hit my spiritual peak at 18.

Sixième anniversaire de mariage

As stupid as I felt then—as silly as I feel now for having choked as I did—what I said was—is—true.

From a notebook

In college I was a diarist. In small spiral notebooks I wrote everything from notes for essays to minutiae about my lackluster love life.

Kicked in the Balls!

Accidents happen, sometimes.

Run for the Schools (10K)

I ran my first 10K race this morning.

On a Belief about College

What does it mean to say, “College was the best years of my life”?

Paula, please make it stop!

It just won’t go away!

I hate missing the bus

I’ve missed a lot of buses, and every time there’s a little twinge of the first.

What my grandfather said

In spite of all the times I sat among the congregated when my grandfather preached, I remember little of what he said.

To the Lighthouse

It’s the rapture baby!

The Creepiest Gift Ever Received

The sad story of the making of a collage.


Open a book, open a blog, write a sentence, wash a dish, vacuum a rug, bury a hatchet, sharpen a knife: every minute my mind reaches for something else, returns to a previous task, collects a memory, projects a future.

in which our blogger does write about leaving…and may put his readers to sleep, even losing the readership of Greg and Kathy

in which our blogger asks even though the gospel is for all, is evangelism for all?

Bottoms Up

At thirteen I was soft and pudgy.

Brokeback Mountain, in short

This is a link to the story, not a film review.


parmesan sage turkey…cranberry, cherry, walnut, port wine compote…homemade yeast rolls…chestnut, sage stuffing…pomegranate, grapefruit vinagrette…and other goodies.

Where She Is Now

Why is it that the more troubling, but more truthful story is the one that is forgotten? Why is it that the classic captivity narrative is the one that is remembered?

The Gossip

These days my ears buzz when I go to shows; if I have no plugs, I am in pain for days afterwards. I had no plugs that day, but I think the pain in the end was worth it.